


Persuasion

by Lykegenia



Series: Rosslyn Cousland [13]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Foreplay, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Neck Kissing, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, So Married, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 07:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15990080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lykegenia/pseuds/Lykegenia
Summary: Rosslyn's working late. Alistair has other ideas.





	Persuasion

**Author's Note:**

> These two are just ridiculously in love, what can I say?

The hour was late. A low fire cracked in the grate and darkness crowded in from the edges of the room, but the Queen of Ferelden had yet to leave her desk. A small stack of papers lay in front of her, a collection of supply requisitions, reports of bandits opening up sealed mineshafts in the central Bannorn, and an angry letter from the First Warden in Weisshaupt that she was ignoring. With a sigh, she shifted in her chair and tried to rub the sting from her eyes, rueing her double life as both monarch and Commander of the Grey. She was so absorbed the creak of a floorboard behind her went unnoticed until pair of hands stretched out of the darkness, fingertips soft against her bare shoulders. A kiss pressed against the top of her head. Too sleepy to be startled, she leaned up into the gesture and smiled when her husband brushed a second against her forehead.

“Come to bed,” Alistair murmured.

Rosslyn set her quill aside so she could lace her fingers with his. “I should really finish this.”

His touch rubbed slow circles into the back of her neck. “You’ve been staring at that page for a full half an hour.”

“Just – until the candle burns down?”

“You’ll disagree, but this is for your own good.”

“What –”

Before she could react, he leaned past her and blew out the flame she had been using to read. Shadows leapt in with the twist of smoke in the air, and only the fire was now left to illuminate the scene. She turned in her chair and glared up at him, incredulous, but he only gazed back with fondness creasing at the corner of his eyes, a small smile tugging at his mouth as he guided her up by the hand. When she stood close enough, he slid his arms around her waist and darted a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“When we started this, we promised we wouldn’t let each other work too hard,” he reminded her, tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb. “Those can wait until tomorrow.”

He was already dressed for bed, as she was, though he had already discarded his shirt. She took in the warmth of him, the golden halo of firelight on the solid curve of his shoulder, and arched up into the embrace that had been both solace and support more times than she could count. With a wry shake of her head, she gave in to the hopeful, puppyish smirk, tilting her head to take the kiss he offered.

“I could always just relight the candle, you know,” she teased around his lips.

His tongue flicked against her mouth. “Are you going to?” His hands had found their way to her lower back, under the loose hem of her shirt where they stroked circles into her skin, kindled a different kind of fire low in her belly.

“Mmmhn...” Her fingers wound into his hair, defiance ebbing away. “I don’t know. You’re being rather persuasive.”

“Only ‘rather’?”

She felt his grin as he turned his attentions towards her jaw, then lower, scraping his teeth ever so gently along the line of her pulse and back towards the hollow beneath her ear. The logs cracked in the grate again. His grip tightened on her waist as she moaned and raked her nails down the back of his neck.

“Alright,” she amended. “ _Very_ persuasive.”

With a low chuckle, Alistair pulled away, catching her fingers to lead the way from the parlour into their private bedroom. He walked backwards, guided by faint pressure from her hands to make sure he didn’t collide with any walls, a wicked line to his smile and promise in the way his eyes lingered over the silhouetted curve of her waist.

They were barely through the door before she closed the gap between them, meeting his mouth with a hungry moan as he fumbled for the handle. Distracted, he underestimated the distance, pushed her backwards into a support that wasn’t there, and tipped them both with such force the door slammed shut in its frame, shutting out the firelight so they had nothing now except the blind darkness and the eagerness of each other’s bodies.

Rosslyn giggled. “Did you mean to do that?”

“Maybe I did.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but the sound bit off into a whimper when he set his teeth against her neck again, bites and kisses down to her collarbone where the strap of her sleeping shirt got in the way. He yanked the garment down, delighted to expose her breast first to the chill of the air then to the slow rasp of his calloused palm. Her hips bucked. Her hands pulled on his waist, eager to bring him closer, to have him crushed against the entire length of her body until the darkness wrought them both into a single being.

When she moaned, he found her mouth again, caught her bottom lip between his teeth. “Feel good?”

“You know it does,” she whined.

 “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“Here.” Already lost, she had only the strength in her arms to push him down, to guide him to where she wanted him, and he went gladly, grinning against her skin as he travelled the path down her neck and over the swell of her breast. With patience born of practice, he circled her with his mouth, tongue curling keen around her flesh, rough and wet and so good when he finally, finally stopped teasing and pulled her nipple into his mouth. She wished she could see. Instead she had to imagine his concentration, the mischievous smirk he’d flash as he tasted her, the flush in his cheeks that told her his arousal was at least the match of hers. She kissed the top of his head, mapped his shoulders with blind hands, murmuring praise, until the stroke of tongue became the nip of teeth and she gasped, head jerking backward so it thudded against the door.

“That sounded painful.” He straightened, catching her face between his hands to check for injury.

“Nothing I can’t give you back in the sparring ring tomorrow,” she promised, and leaned forward. She misjudged the distance and ended up kissing his chin. “We should go to bed.”

“I knew I was more interesting than a letter from the First – _ahhh_ …”

She trailed her fingers along the waistband of his sleep pants again, nudging forwards to tease the barest pressure against the hard length of his cock, still trapped behind a layer of cloth. “I want you.”

“Rosslyn –”

She pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and grinned. “Bed.”

“As the lady desires.”

His fingers scraped down her back. Anticipation sparked through her as she turned them both and led the way across the floor. Robbed of sight by the darkness, there was only the strength of his arms around her, the crush of his lips and the musk of sex rising insistent in the air around them. She tugged at the knot holding his nightclothes on his hips, giggling when he bucked into the feeling and cast muttered pleas against her mouth. She almost forgot about the bed until her knees collided the feather tic and nearly set her off-balance.

Alistair was not quite so lucky. His eagerness stepped too close. A hard knock and a muffled yelp, and they both toppled onto the mattress, landing winded and tangled together, disoriented for the instant it took to register they were no longer standing.

“What was that?” Rosslyn asked, looking to the dim shape looming above her.

He winced, and shifted to free her trapped hand. “My shin – it knocked right on the corner of the frame.”

With a sympathetic hum, she leaned up and began to lay a path of kisses along his throat. “Are you alright?”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest, until her touch meandered down and squeezed through the material of his pants, and the sound ended in a hiss. The extra layer of friction made his hips twitch as she stroked him, long, firm passes meant to build him up, to steal his breath and leave him on the ragged edge of control.

“What was the question again?”

She hummed her laughter and kissed his shoulder. “Relax.”

“You… _unh_ …”

She left off, only briefly, holding him up on the brace of the forearm as she spat into her palm, and when she pushed back down and slipped properly against his skin his groan twisted something lovely in her gut. He thrust into her movements, velvet and hot and hard as steel, pouring small, panting grunts of pleasure into her ear that drove her desire to feel him come apart, to have his strength and take it, eager for the way every downward rut of his hips ground her own hand against her sex.

“ _This isn’t fair_ ,” he managed over her murmured encouragements, and shifted to catch her wrist.

“What do you –?”

“I want a turn.” He nipped at the single strap now holding her shirt on her body. “As much as I’m enjoying what you’re doing. Let’s get these off.”

“If you insist.”

He took his time working the garments down her body. Hands and mouth both trailed along her skin, exposing her inch by inch to the darkness, until he reached her hip and with one final kiss there stood up for better leverage as he pulled all her clothes off and dropped them with a soft _whuff_ onto the floor.

“And are you going to be stripping as well?” she asked conversationally, idly cupping her own breast and aware that with so little light he couldn’t see any of the display.

“Get on the bed properly and you’ll find out,” he retorted.

Her legs still dangled over the edge of the mattress, and it _was_ rather uncomfortable. With a low chuckle, she scooted back, crawling until her back hit the mountain of soft pillows insisted on by the servants, and waited for Alistair to follow.

His fingers brushed against her ankle.

“I’m over here,” she called softly.

“Of course you are.” He followed the shape of her leg, blind groping transformed seamlessly into an appreciation of form, calloused palms that ran along her muscles with just the right pressure to make her shiver. And then he was looming over her again, all warmth and weight and not a stitch left to get in the way. She curled her finger around his chin and brought him down for a kiss, humming when his fingers skimmed up her ribs, when he propped his weight on one arm to better trace the curve of her waist and the sharp point that marked the soft descent towards her core.

He was good with his hands. Rosslyn loved his mouth, but his _hands_ – she liked to joke it was all the card tricks he taught himself in the Chantry school that let him play her with such skill, but when those fingers were on her, teasing her, pushing her apart, scattering her mind until all that was left was the instinct to plant her feet against the bed and somehow find a counterpoint to the increasing pace of his strokes, then she couldn’t say much of anything at all.

“Are you enjoying that?” he purred, driving his fingers deeper. “I can’t quite tell.”

She clutched at his shoulders and whimpered. “Smug bastard.”

“Oh?”

“No!” She clamped her legs around his hand so he couldn’t pull away, dug her teeth into his shoulder and gripped his hair. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“Turn over.”

“What?”

With a growl, he slipped his hand free, ignoring her protest, and in one movement twisted her round so she lay on her front, pressed into the mattress by his weight hard along the entire length of her back. Their legs tangled again, a hand steady on her waist and his cock mounted into the cleft of her arse.

“That was sneaky,” she chided.

“That’s what you get for name-calling.”

“That’s all?”

Teeth scraped her shoulder. “You want more? How greedy.”

“It’s a good thing you’re generous, then, isn’t it?” She wriggled, arching her muscles like a cat and grinning when his control slipped, just for an instant, and his hips stuttered against her back. “ _Please_ , Alistair.”

“Now who’s being persuasive?”

He pulled away, just enough to be able to settle over her more comfortably, to part her legs with his knees. When she turned around and reached for him, he met her with a kiss, a reassuring brush of the lips that deepened into hunger as he lowered himself against her entrance with a final few pumps of his hand.

“You’re so wet,” he gasped as he pushed in. “ _Maker_.”

“Come here.”

Blindly, Rosslyn reached back for him, threading her fingers through his hair to bring him closer as he began to move. The hiss of breath he loosed with every slow, sharp thrust wrapped around her, a blaze of sensation that sparked every nerve along her spine and pulled her breath from her lungs in tumbles of bright, unintelligible moans. The intimacy of it, of being surrounded, filled, of taking the pleasure he offered with such enthusiasm – she arched up with a cry and begged him to go faster.

“Yes – Rosslyn, _yes_ –”

Their hands groped in the dark, linked, gripped hard enough to bruise.

“ _Aahhh – you’re getting tighter – you feel so…_ ”

The snap of his hips became more insistent, harder, his entire body moving against her back, grunts of effort muffled through the kisses he sucked into her neck.

“– _don’tstopdon’t –_ ”

“I won’t,” he promised. “I won’t – I want to feel you – come for me –”

They lost words. Their movements grew desperate, harsher. Her eyes closed, nails biting into the back of his neck as every muscle tensed, temple pressed to forehead – a whine, a shock of breath, a shudder and the pressure snapping like an overloaded string. Alistair came far louder, spending slick and tacky with the last few thrusts, a groan that fell against her shoulders as she spiralled down and he collapsed and dipped his head to snatch kisses across every inch of skin within his reach. Their grip on each other turned into an embrace, sleepy, limbs heavy, languidly stretching in the aftermath. She twisted onto her side, a chuckle on her lips as he flopped down behind her, already softened enough that he slipped from her without complaint. Sated fingers curled back and played along his side as he pulled her into a firmer embrace, a reaffirming touch that settled on the rise of his hip.

“I think I’m glad you blew out that candle now,” she confessed, tilting further still to find his mouth.

He smiled into the kiss, content. “It was an entirely selfish of me.”

“Mm?”

“Mmhhmm.” He poked her gently in the ribs. “You’re always so grumpy in the mornings when you’ve been working late.”

She snorted. “That’s fair.”

“I love you anyway, you know.”

“And so you should,” she teased, snuggled against his chin. Her eyelids drooped, a battle already lost to the lure of sleep and safety in Alistair’s arms.  

 


End file.
